


A Beginning

by spockandawe



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockandawe/pseuds/spockandawe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Lieutenant once accidentally stumbled on Amon touching himself, he'd expected it to be erotic. It wasn't. The first time they wind up in bed together, he has to take the lead and take it slowly to be sure he doesn't push too far for Amon to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beginning

                I hadn't meant to see him like this. I'd been coming to ask Amon some question. Perhaps nothing worth bothering him in his personal quarters, but these days we'd both been finding every excuse to seek out each other's company. My hand was raised to knock on the door when I just barely caught a faint, unmistakable sound. I shouldn't have looked. It would have been better to leave and come back in twenty minutes or so. But these old doors didn't sit perfectly straight in their doorframes, and there was a tempting crack _right there_ at the hinge... Leaving would have been the polite thing. But when I thought about seeing him there, maybe lying all tangled in the sheets and arching up into his hand, or leaning against the wall with his head thrown back-- I couldn't resist. One quick peek, and I'd leave. Just one.

                It wasn't at all what I'd expected, and I almost regretted ever deciding to look. Amon was on the bed, but fully dressed, mask and all, and on his stomach, his face buried in a pillow. One arm was wrapped around that pillow, holding it to his face, and the other was pinned under him, moving with short, rough strokes. The way he was curled forward looked more like a man crying than a man pleasuring himself. He was unnervingly silent. Even from this close, I could hardly hear a thing.

                I meant to leave then. I didn't want to stay and watch this. But I couldn't believe that this was real. Surely this wasn't what it was always like for him. In a moment he'd roll over, and I'd be able to see something less uncomfortable than this. See there was something enjoyable about this for him. There wasn't, though. There was a barely audible, muffled noise, he froze, and that was all. He stood, adjusting his clothing, pulled the sheet from the bed and threw it in a corner, and he was done. He went to the small desk by the window, sat down, and began to work.

                I never asked him that question. Instead I left, walking as silently as possible. It was a rare day without anything of pressing importance to occupy either of us, but I spent the evening along in my room, flipping through a book without reading a single word. When I finally gave up and tried to go to bed, I lay awake staring at the ceiling for at least an hour before I fell asleep.  It haunted every conversation we had for days days. He acted no different, and I did my best to let nothing show on my face, but I couldn't forget the way he'd looked.

                Before, what had been growing between us had seemed almost too good to believe. It still did, really. He was the same man he'd been before, and he was still more than I'd ever dreamed of having. But now I couldn't help examining every word and look and touch and turning them over and over in my head, trying to reconcile them with what I'd seen. He cared for me, didn't he? And I knew what I felt for him. Wasn't that all that mattered? The first time I thought the moment was right and pressed my lips against the lips of his mask he froze, and I pulled away. I'd made a mistake. But his fingers curled around mine, and he held me where I was.

                There weren't any more kisses that day. But that night when we found ourselves alone in my room, I could feel the tension. I was afraid to make the first move. Did he really want this? Or was he just trying to give me what he thought _I_ wanted? We were sitting side by side on the bed, but we were hardly even able to look each other in the eye. Finally he was the one who turned and stretched upward, trying to kiss me on the cheek. It was not the easiest with a mask. I wasn't going to say anything, but he laughed, and then I laughed, and that made things better.

                His movements were uncertain, but when I asked him if this was _really_ what he wanted, he replied very firmly that it was. He put his hands on my neck to pull me down to him, but he hardly seemed to know what to do after that. I eased him gently down onto the bed, lying beside him, careful not to move too quickly. Perhaps kissing a mask was not quite the same as lips, but it was _him_ and that was what made all the difference.

                Even if he wouldn't say anything, he was not perfectly comfortable. I forced myself not to push any more until he was sure he wanted to go further.  I had my lips against his neck, my eyes shut and just feeling the beating of his pulse when he made the first tentative effort to touch me. His hands ran across my stomach, up over my chest and shoulders before he stopped and tried to apologize. I reassured him that it had been wonderful, taking his hands in mine and pressing  them back against me. I could almost see his confidence growing as he molded his body against mine, holding me close. But when I finally moved to undo his belt, I could feel him freeze again.

                "Amon, we don't have to do anything you don't want."

                "No. I _do_ want this. I-- I just--"

                 "Shh. Listen, you have to know that I don't want you to be uncomfortable. We can stop."

                He glanced down. "You're hard."

                "That doesn't have to matter. I just want you to be happy."

                He pressed his lips to mine. "I want you to be happy too. And I don't want to _stop_. I just don't know how far-- Can-- Can you go slowly?"

                "Of course I can." I kissed him reassuringly. "We can take it just as slowly as you want. Why don't we try this. Hands only, unless you want to ask me for more. And if I do anything you don't like, just ask me to stop. Does that sound good?"

                He nodded mutely, but I could still see the tension in the way he held himself. He lay there, just letting me kiss him until I could see him starting to relax again. "Amon, may I take off your shirt?" He nodded again, barely moving his head. I took my time with each button and tie, carefully peeling back the layers one by one until there were none  left. He sat up just enough to shrug the clothing off, then lay back down again.

                My hands ran over his chest and stomach, but I only let myself kiss his mask and neck. I could see the effect it was having on him, but I didn't try to touch him any lower. He was the one who finally caught my hands in his and moved them to his belt.

                "Amon, are you sure? You have to tell me you really want this."

                "I do. I need this. I need you."

                I buried my face in his shoulder and held him to me with one hand as I fumbled his belt open with the other. I slid off the last of his clothing, then pulled back for a moment to just look at him. I gave myself a minute to run my hands up and down legs, just sitting there and taking in the sight, but then he grabbed my hands again and moved them to his cock, wrapping my fingers around him and starting to move them up and down.

                "Oh, there's no need to rush now. Let's take our time." He slowed down a hair, but that was all. "Amon, can't I take my time and savor the experience?"

                He paused. "This _is_ slow."

                "Does it have to be over so quickly? I don't want things to end so soon." He didn't say a word, and I sat up. "Amon?"

                "I don't understand."

                "I don't want this to _just_ be about making you come. It can be, if that's what you'd rather have. But that's not all there is. I won't do anything you don't want, I promise. I'm only asking."

                "...What else is there?"

                "May I show you?" He nodded and I pulled him upright. I sat against the headboard, settling him down between my legs. Even through my clothing, I could feel the warmth of his body against my chest. I put my arms around him, taking the time to explore him with my hands, tracing old scars with my fingers, and feeling the way he responded to my touches. He didn't say a word, but from this close I could hear how breathing growing ragged. His hands rested on my arms, and when I finally let a finger brush along his cock, his hands clenched around me. His back arched and he made a small noise, but I had already gone back to touching his legs, his stomach, his chest.

                I teased him for as long as I could, but once he begged me to touch him, I gave in. He moaned at the contact when my fingers wrapped around him, my other hand on his chest, holding him to me. He tried to move my hand, but I held my own pace, moving against him slowly and pausing at the end of each stroke, going no faster no matter how me pleaded. When his legs pressed together, I nudged them apart, running my free hand up and down his inner thighs. By the end he was almost sobbing, writhing against me with his head thrown back against my shoulder. I pressed my lips to his neck as he came, holding him close until he finished shaking.

                I'd expected to lie there together for some time, but as soon as he'd caught his breath he was pulling away, sliding off the side of the bed and reaching for his discarded clothes. He paused and looked back at me. "What about you?"

                "I'm fine. I don't have to come."

                "It's not fair, though. You should."

                "I don't want to push you any further than you're comfortable."

                He paused, then sat back on the bed and edged closer. "What if you touched yourself?"

                "Really, it's not that important. I've stopped like this before."

                "But will you do it while I watch?"

                My breath caught, and I could feel my pants tighten. "That's what you want?" He nodded. "Then I'd love to."

                I stripped out of my clothing quickly, throwing it over the edge of the bed and settling back down, legs spread wide, a hand moving lazily up and down my cock. When I looked over at Amon and saw him transfixed by what I was doing, I had to shut my eyes and pause, or I might have finished too early. I settled into my familiar rhythm. Slow, long strokes, rushing nothing and taking in the sensation of each touch. I let my head rest against the headboard, remembering how Amon had felt, how he had sounded, everything about him. When I felt the second touch, it took me a moment to realize what was happening, but then my eyes snapped open and I saw Amon kneeling on the bend, running tentative fingers up and down my cock.

                My hand fell away, and I watched, hardly able to breathe, as Amon touched me. I wished the moment could have lasted forever, but it wasn't long at all before I came. He pulled away and seemed about to leave the bed again, but I caught his wrist before he could go far. I lay down, easing him down beside me, and holding him against my chest.

                Amon put his hands over mine and asked, "Was that what you wanted?"

                I kissed the back of his neck. "It was perfect."


End file.
